Today, I met someone. I remember when I was in class 8, I used to call her my best friend.

Funny how, as kids, we hand out that title so freely— as if every friend is the best, as if friendship itself is a competition.

But what does best friend even mean?

The one better than the rest? Or the one who brings out the best in us?

Back then, she was just a friend— or maybe just someone I studied with, a familiar face at home, in tuition, just another name in my little world.

She was incredibly intelligent. Somehow, I’ve always been surrounded by toppers—I don’t know why, but it has been happening since the beginning. In kindergarten, my best friend was the daughter of a math teacher. Then, in school, I befriended the shy girl sitting in the corner, who later became the head girl. Then came her—my tuition mate. And finally, the one who made me feel special—the one who has been with me for seven years and counting—my college girlie, the most artistic person I know. Obviously, the topper of my batch. I call her MO-MO.

the one i met today, is Mounil. I met her during tuition. My personality has changed so much over time that sometimes I feel like the person I used to be is lost somewhere, and I can never find her again. The innocence in my eyes has faded into the world of my own making. she who don't understand the meaning of love, was actually the one loving everyone.

And I, who always wanted to be loved, can no longer love anyone. Because I no longer trust anyone.

Isn’t it ironic? As children, we are told to smile, to laugh, to enjoy life. And then, one day, someone tells us to grow up. To let go of the smiles, the laughter, and move on with the cruel world.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. Sometimes, it feels like it was just a dream—a dream I wish I could change. It’s not that anything bad happened. It just feels like nothing happened. I was too innocent to do anything memorable. I didn’t have many friends to do crazy things with. Maybe that’s why my childhood feels so distant.

But I vaguely remember her.

She was always focused on competition and studies. She spoke well with everyone. She knew exactly what she was doing.

I on the other hand, never knew what I wanted. I just followed people. I trusted everyone.

At home, I was loud, free. But outside? I was a whisper. I overthought everything— How do I look? Why am I always sick? Why am I so clumsy? Do they like me? Why am I never invited? Am I lovable at all?

And even now, I haven’t changed in some ways. I still crave people’s approval. Yes, I am a people pleaser.

The one thing I want to change about myself? This.

I don’t want to entertain people anymore. But the truth is, I love it. I love the comments on my posts, the way people’s love fuels me. It makes me happy. It keeps me going.

Meeting her again—surrounded by old tuition friends, people I’m still connected with by chance, because we share the same campus— she was exactly the same. Studious, competitive, the good girl.

And me?

In India, a good girl is someone with no bad habits, no boyfriend, a healthy, disciplined lifestyle. She checks every box.

And I?

I broke the mold. I didn’t choose engineering. I chose art. They are earning more than me, but I am living more than them.

I am no longer following anyone.

Finally, I am following myself.

I no longer run— I walk, I wander, I breathe. The wind hums stories only I can hear,

and the road unfolds like an old friend’s embrace.

They wait, eyes fixed on a distant station,

a promised land wrapped in schedules.

Perhaps their wonderland outshines mine, perhaps their journey hums in air-conditioned ease—

but their doors remain closed.

I am free. Unbound by tracks, untouched by timetables,

I move where the sun kisses the earth, where the sky stretches without end.

I do as I please—

because the journey is mine.

Today, I met someone. I remember when I was in class 8, I used to call her my best friend.

Funny how, as kids, we hand out that title so freely— as if every friend is the best, as if friendship itself is a competition.

But what does best friend even mean?

The one better than the rest? Or the one who brings out the best in us?

Back then, she was just a friend— or maybe just someone I studied with, a familiar face at home, in tuition, just another name in my little world.

She was incredibly intelligent. Somehow, I’ve always been surrounded by toppers—I don’t know why, but it has been happening since the beginning. In kindergarten, my best friend was the daughter of a math teacher. Then, in school, I befriended the shy girl sitting in the corner, who later became the head girl. Then came her—my tuition mate. And finally, the one who made me feel special—the one who has been with me for seven years and counting—my college girlie, the most artistic person I know. Obviously, the topper of my batch. I call her MO-MO.

the one i met today, is Mounil. I met her during tuition. My personality has changed so much over time that sometimes I feel like the person I used to be is lost somewhere, and I can never find her again. The innocence in my eyes has faded into the world of my own making. she who don't understand the meaning of love, was actually the one loving everyone.

And I, who always wanted to be loved, can no longer love anyone. Because I no longer trust anyone.

Isn’t it ironic? As children, we are told to smile, to laugh, to enjoy life. And then, one day, someone tells us to grow up. To let go of the smiles, the laughter, and move on with the cruel world.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. Sometimes, it feels like it was just a dream—a dream I wish I could change. It’s not that anything bad happened. It just feels like nothing happened. I was too innocent to do anything memorable. I didn’t have many friends to do crazy things with. Maybe that’s why my childhood feels so distant.

But I vaguely remember her.

She was always focused on competition and studies. She spoke well with everyone. She knew exactly what she was doing.

I on the other hand, never knew what I wanted. I just followed people. I trusted everyone.

At home, I was loud, free. But outside? I was a whisper. I overthought everything— How do I look? Why am I always sick? Why am I so clumsy? Do they like me? Why am I never invited? Am I lovable at all?

And even now, I haven’t changed in some ways. I still crave people’s approval. Yes, I am a people pleaser.

The one thing I want to change about myself? This.

I don’t want to entertain people anymore. But the truth is, I love it. I love the comments on my posts, the way people’s love fuels me. It makes me happy. It keeps me going.

Meeting her again—surrounded by old tuition friends, people I’m still connected with by chance, because we share the same campus— she was exactly the same. Studious, competitive, the good girl.

And me?

In India, a good girl is someone with no bad habits, no boyfriend, a healthy, disciplined lifestyle. She checks every box.

And I?

I broke the mold. I didn’t choose engineering. I chose art. They are earning more than me, but I am living more than them.

I am no longer following anyone.

Finally, I am following myself.

I no longer run— I walk, I wander, I breathe. The wind hums stories only I can hear,

and the road unfolds like an old friend’s embrace.

They wait, eyes fixed on a distant station,

a promised land wrapped in schedules.

Perhaps their wonderland outshines mine, perhaps their journey hums in air-conditioned ease—

but their doors remain closed.

I am free. Unbound by tracks, untouched by timetables,

I move where the sun kisses the earth, where the sky stretches without end.

I do as I please—

because the journey is mine.